


Ogeda (Together)

by NorthShore7911



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Angst, Canon, Canon Divergent, Canon-Typical Violence, Clexa, Clexa Endgame, F/F, F/M, Fix It, Graphic Violence, Sexual Assault, Slow Burn, Trigger Warnings, more tags will be added as needed
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-26
Updated: 2020-02-03
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:07:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21571960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NorthShore7911/pseuds/NorthShore7911
Summary: All Clarke wants to do is rest, but there is no rest for the wicked. Her guilt consumes her, the blood on her hands, both red and black, never seems to wash away. She has one mission, do everything in her power to preserve Lexa’s legacy, to save all of their people. She didn’t plan on it being so hard, on finding a new enemy to fight, nor did she plan on having a ghost from her past return.The one ghost that haunts her every living moment.The one that she thought she had lost forever.The one that she loved more than her own life.What happens now? Will fate tear them apart, or bring them back together?
Relationships: Clarke Griffin/Lexa
Comments: 30
Kudos: 95





	1. The Road To Polis

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!
> 
> I want to thank everyone out there who encouraged me to re-post this work. This story is the first Clexa story I have ever written and it was written in a fit of rage after Lexa’s death. I was angry, sad, outraged and filled with resentment for how Lexa was treated. This was my fix-it attempt. 
> 
> I posted this story originally because I wanted to give our girls the happy ending they deserve, but I lost my way with it and eventually just lost the drive to finish it. I recently watched the Clexa “Movie” again and I was inspired to go back to this fic and re-read it, and I felt the flash again, the inspiration to give the story the ending it deserves. 
> 
> I must warn you, this story is very angst driven, especially in the beginning. There is a lot of discussion and dialogue about Lexa’s death and Clarke’s feelings about it. If that is a trigger for you, I would suggest skipping to chapter 3, but you will miss quite a bit of the set up for this story. 
> 
> This story takes place after season 3, after several major characters have died. However, there are no bombs, no imminent world destruction and no Sanctum. I have kept this story on Earth, (mostly because when I wrote it season 4,5,6 didn't exist yet.) But I also wanted to explore what I felt would occur in the aftermath of Lexa’s death and how the Grounders would continue. So this is where the story takes place. We will also see some familiar faces that we have lost in the time since this story was originally written. 
> 
> I was also very surprised at the amount of criticism and negative comments this story initially generated. It is a fix-it and my personal take on what happens. If you aren’t down for this story that’s fine, but please, keep the negative comments to yourself. I do however, appreciate constructive criticism and suggestions, so I welcome any and all of those comments. They have, in my other stories, really helped me to figure out plot points, so please suggest away! 
> 
> This story is Clexa endgame. I know it may not seem so at first, but trust me, I will always give them the happy ending they deserve. 
> 
> Enjoy.

Clarke closes her eyes; squeezing them as together as tightly as she can hoping to make the images that are racing through her mind go away. As hard as she tries to make them yield, they refuse to stop. It used to be the visions invaded her mind only while she slept, but now they come to her in her waking hours.

The images are always visceral, completely enveloping Clarke’s every sense as if she were reliving them all over again. Her head turns as hears the sound, a squeak from a door hinge as it opens. She breathes in deeply. The stench of gunpowder hangs in the air as its familiar smell sears through her nostrils. She feels her stomach tighten, the grip of deep panic twisting her gut. Her head turns again as she hears the bullet tear through the flesh. She sees those eyes, _her_ eyes. She watches helplessly as those eyes change from shock and confusion to a calm acceptance of their fate. Clarke felt her hands clench as the heat of the black blood still burned through them. She heard her own voice screaming, “I will fix you!” Her lips tensed as she felt their delicate skin on the lips of another, feeling the terrifying sensation of a last breath escaping from dying lungs.

Clarke opened her eyes, this vision mercifully over. It took her a moment to regain her senses and remember where she was. She looked up at the darkening sky above her. The storm was still far enough off in the distance that it was not yet a threat. A cool mist fell lightly on her exposed skin while the vast green forest surrounded and sheltered her like a warm blanket. The gray horse beneath her neighed impatiently, as if to remind Clarke it was time to keep moving. But Clarke could not yet move. The visions all but paralyzed her. Every new vision was more debilitating than the last. Clarke sat silently, taking in deep breaths in an attempt to regain her composure. Her hand unconsciously went to her chest and immediately grabbed for the silver pendant that hung from her neck. After a few moments she was again fully in control of herself. She looked down at the shiny pendant she held in her palm. Raven had been kind enough to forge it for Clarke several days prior while Clarke had visited Arkadia. Inside of the oblong piece of jewelry was something more precious to Clarke than any other item she had ever possessed, even her father’s watch. Inside of that pendant was the Flame. Clarke unlatched the clasp of the pendant and picked up the Flame, rolling it gently between her thumb and her index finger. A tremendous calm fell over Clarke. The Flame was the only thing that had this kind of affect on her. The more the visions came to her, the more she had practiced the same routine.

_“I’ll always be with you.”_ Clarke heard the sweet voice in her head, reassuring her yet again. Clarke quietly sighed as her fingers lingered on the Flame, trying to absorb as much of its serenity as she could. Lexa’s presence emanated from the object and it was the only thing that could quiet Clarke in the aftermath of her visions. Clarke believed it. She had to believe it. Seeing Lexa again in the City of Light confirmed for Clarke that a part of Lexa was still present, still _alive_. Clarke knew that when she threw that switch effectively ending the City of Light, that it wasn’t the end of Lexa. ALIE 2.0 had survived even if ALIE had not. Lexa was still safe in the Flame, Clarke knew it, she could feel it. Clarke refused to believe Lexa found her in the City if Light only to die again. That was unacceptable. Lexa told Clarke that no one would follow her through that door, and no one did. Lexa lived through that battle. Believing that some part of her still existed was the only thing that allowed Clarke to keep waking up every morning. Still, her unrelenting connection to the tiny object was conflicting to her in many ways.

Clarke, now being the only known Fleimkepa, had a duty to protect the Flame and an obligation to ensure it moved on to the next commander. Clarke completely understood that responsibility and accepted its burden. She had pursued every available option that she possibly could to make sure her role as the Flame keeper would be fulfilled, that the commander’s legacy, that _Lexa’s_ legacy, would continue on. But after Ontari murdered all the natblidas and Luna refused her birthright, Clarke was left with no other options but to search for another natblida. Clarke swore she would search the ends of the earth until she found one. But when the visions gripped her, and her grief tore away at her very soul, there was a part of Clarke that selfishly wanted to hold on to the Flame. The Flame was the only quantifiable object that Clarke could still touch, the part of Lexa that she could still hold. How could she let that go? How could she willingly give that to someone else? She dreaded the moment that she had to surrender it to another, the moment where she would truly lose Lexa forever.

Clarke drew in a deep breath. She couldn’t think about that right now. It was time to go. Feeling somewhat reassured, Clarke gently placed the Flame back into the pendant. With the clasp firmly secured, she softly nudged her horse and resumed her journey.

It was still a long ride to Polis. Clarke had spent the last several weeks traveling to the different clans in Lexa’s fragile coalition. If there was any way to ensure the alliance remained intact, Clarke was determined to find it. She couldn’t save Lexa’s life but she would do everything in her power to save Lexa’s legacy. She owed her that much. All that mattered right now to Clarke was honoring what Lexa had died trying to create, a lasting peace for her people, _all_ of her people.

The clans were understandably uneasy. The state of perpetual unrest after the events of the last month and a half had taken their toll. Lexa’s death had obviously been a substantial blow to the coalition. Ontari’s false claim to the throne was another. And with no Heda to lead them, the alliance was on the verge of collapsing. As far as Clarke was concerned, the possibility of another war was very real.

What was needed now was a mutual armistice. A guaranteed break from the tensions that could give her enough time to find another commander and return some of the normalcy to the commerce and trade between the clans that been disrupted by ALIE’s interference. Clarke knew this would be an uphill battle, but she was not deterred. The vacuum of power in the wake of Lexa’s death left too many opportunities for Lexa’s adversaries to assume control of her throne and the coalition. As far as Clarke was concerned, that was never going to happen. She knew she was the only person who could make sure that it didn’t. Wanheda was still a feared figure, but now Clarke was also Fleimkepa, a title that until recently was a prestigious one in itself. As there was no acting Heda, Fleimkepa was now for all intents and purposes, in charge. To be fair, the clans were not exactly happy to see Wanheda’s ominous presence looming on their doorsteps. Getting through their gates without getting killed would be difficult enough, yet alone having the clans be persuaded to agree to a ceasefire. Nevertheless, Clarke would not let that minor detail interfere with her agenda.

Surprisingly, she was allowed to speak to each of their leaders, with the exception of Azgeda as King Roan had been called away to a village on its far border. Many clans knew of her significance to Lexa and that the former commander respected Wanheda and valued her counsel and now as she was the Fleimkepa, the next commander would do the same. What Clarke didn’t realize was that all the clans were utterly terrified of her, the nickname Wanheda was well earned not carelessly given, she was still the mountain slayer, still the Commander of Death. The power of Wanheda was what they feared and respected and was what really allowed Clarke an audience. Before every clan leader she faced, Clarke cautiously and emphatically laid out the argument that “blood must not have blood” was still in their best interests. She compellingly spoke of Lexa’s unwavering commitment to this edict. How this was what Heda had envisioned for her people. Lives free from the never-ending violence that had almost consumed every inch of their lands. Children able to play on unscarred landscapes like children should, free from the fear that death was stalking them at every turn.

Most of all, Clarke illustrated the importance of mercy and forgiveness. She was keenly aware that forgiveness was desperately needed for this coalition to remain whole and for Skaikru to remain the thirteenth clan. She was also aware that Skaikru was completely responsible for the chaos that these clans were now immersed in because of Pike and ALIE. The clans had known that Lexa showed mercy to Skaikru before, even after they slaughtered her army at the gates of Arkadia. Clarke had hoped they would understand Lexa’s motivations. “Heda knew mercy was not weakness,” she explained. “Peace through forgiveness was the goal that was most difficult to achieve, yet Heda was willing to fight for that difficult goal for you, was willing to _die_ for that goal for you.” Clarke knew that the clans had respected Lexa, even if they disagreed with some of her politics. She also knew they needed the trade routes to be re-established.

None of the clans were completely self-sufficient; they needed each other more that they cared to admit. Some clan leaders speculated that Clarke was self-serving in her plea for peace, hoping to yet again protect her own people from reprisal. They weren’t completely wrong. The only thing stopping them from slaughtering Skaikru was the fact that they were all still reeling from ALIE’s aftermath. But, Wanheda would not be denied. In the end, all would be swayed by Clarke’s convincing urgings.

Most clans were quickly running out of necessary provisions and needed the trade routes back in service. But the promise of free trade wasn’t the only thing that convinced them. No one was ready for war, not yet, which was a relief to Clarke. War was exhausting, not just for her, but for everyone. There weren’t enough shovels to bury the dead. Too much blood and treasure had been frivolously wasted already. Many clans were near depleted of able-bodied warriors. They had all agreed to the ceasefire. Even if this peace was temporary, as many believed it would be, it was a welcome respite for all.

Arkadia was her last stop.

Clarke dreaded going back. Arkadia wasn’t her home, it never was. Clarke had put off going there for as long as she could, but she knew she had to make sure Kane was on board with everything she was doing. Skaikru needed to be integrated fully into the coalition. More than fully assimilated as an equal, they needed to take the lead. They had to extend the proverbial olive branch and do their best to earn the trust of the other clans. Their advanced technology provided a unique bargaining chip that Clarke wanted to take full advantage of. She had promised the other clans limited access to Arkadia’s medical, agricultural and educational expertise in exchange for grain, livestock, pelts and tracking lessons from the best Trikru hunters. Clarke felt it was an incredibly fair agreement and luckily, Kane shared her opinion.

The clans agreed to send ambassadors back to Polis within the next week for a summit. Clarke new she had to get there first. She needed time to prepare for what was to come. In Polis, she would temporarily resume her position as ambassador for Skaikru and hopefully reestablish Polis as the one true seat of power and commerce under a new provisional leadership. Only after that provisional leadership was securely established would she resume the search for another night blood to ascend to commander. As much as she hated to admit it, Clarke knew that only a commander could ensure that the fragile truce that she had established remained firmly intact. She just hoped she could find one that would be as amenable to the prospect of peace as Lexa was. Clarke also needed time to reconcile with what returning to Polis meant to her personally, returning yet again to the place where she lost the one true love of her life.

As Clarke rode on, her thoughts drifted to Lexa. They always did when Clarke was alone and the world was quiet. Clarke remembered the first time she saw her. The Commander cut quite an intimidating figure perched on her throne. Her slender hands casually toying with a knife so sharp it could split a stone. Lexa’s beauty immediately struck Clarke; she did not expect the mighty Commander to look like that. Clarke anticipated she would be meeting a cold, calculating monster, not a beautiful young woman. Yet as she interacted with Lexa, she observed that there was something incredibly disarming about her. Something within Clarke told her that Lexa would not harm her. When Indra understandably threatened Clarke’s life, Lexa could have let her kill Clarke, yet she did not. Lexa allowed Clarke to present her argument and actually listened to Clarke. She treated Clarke with respect, which was something not many others had ever really done. Clarke was always thankful for that, she wished she could have told Lexa as much. Clarke then remembered taking the braid that belonged to Anya out of her pocket; she noticed that Lexa was visibly pained by the news of Anya’s death. Clarke was initially taken aback by this revelation, as she had not realized that their relationship ran deeper than mentor and apprentice. Lexa actually cared for Anya very deeply. Even as she attempted to avert them away from Clarke, the pain in Lexa’s eyes betrayed her feelings. In that instant, Clarke learned that Lexa’s eyes were her undoing. Every emotion Lexa would ever try to conceal would be laid bare to Clarke just by gazing into her eyes.

Clarke smiled. This was the first smile that had crossed her lips in weeks. Thinking of Lexa’s soulful emerald eyes gave her a brief second of happiness, but that happiness was fleeting. Clarke was rapidly approaching the outer limits of Polis. The looming tower that housed the city center slowly began to rise through the horizon in the distance. Even in the dim twilight hours, the massive tower was intimidating. A feeling of dread swept over Clarke. Seeing the tower again after everything that had happened hit her like a swift punch to the stomach. “Keep moving,” she said to herself. Darkness would descend on her soon. Clarke took a deep breath, bit her lip and rode on. It would only take an hour or so to get to that tower. Clarke looked down at the path ahead of her, ignoring the skyline.

The city was quiet. It looked surprisingly peaceful considering the events that had transpired here only six weeks before. The vendors had long closed up their shops for the day. Thunder rumbled in the distance. The overcast sky that had casually drizzled all day was about to unleash its fury. A few people nonchalantly meandered through the plaza almost unaware of the storm brewing. Clarke slowly made her way down the main street towards the tower. She watched the people casually strolling about and wondered where they were headed. The tavern? The brothel? Home? “Home” she thought to herself. She didn’t have a home. She thought she might have found one here in Polis with Lexa. A home where she could stand by Lexa as she ruled her people by day and lay next to Lexa as she ruled her heart by night. Clarke’s mind wandered as she imagined their naked bodies intertwined, basking peacefully in the moonlight that crept into the Commander’s chamber. Lexa’s head nestled on her chest, rising up and down with Clarke’s every breath as she slowly drifted off to sleep. The heat of their bare skin the only thing keeping them warm in the cool night air. Clarke shivered thinking about it. What would that life had been like? A home with her? “Stop” Clarke sneered out loud through clenched teeth. She admonished herself for allowing that scenario to creep into her brain. Those thoughts, for Clarke, were dangerous and distracting. She had to concentrate on what needed to be done, the alliance, maintaining the ceasefire that she had so carefully brokered, and finding the new commander. That was what she needed to be focused on.

What could have been didn’t matter anymore. There was nothing that could be done to change that now.


	2. Children are the anchors that hold a mother to life...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke confesses. A King visits. An unknown guest makes an appearance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello,
> 
> I want to thank everyone who commented on the first chapter. Your support and encouragement means a lot. Without further ado, here’s chapter 2. I hope you like it. 
> 
> Trigger warning: Lexa’s death is described again in this chapter. If you don’t want to read about it please skip the italicized part.
> 
> Enjoy

“Clarke?” Clarke turned towards the familiar voice.

“Mom!” Clarke and Abby ran to each other and heartily embraced.

“Oh my God Mom, I’m so happy to see you.” Clarke needed this embrace, this human contact. She didn’t realize how much she did until right at this moment. As Clarke pulled away from her mother, an object over Abby’s right shoulder caught her attention. Hiding quietly in the night’s shadows was Lexa’s empty throne. Clarke melted back into her mother’s shoulder and began to violently sob.

Abby held her daughter tightly, “It’s ok Clarke.” But it wasn’t ok. Abby knew that it wasn’t, of course it wasn’t. But those were the only words she could find for her daughter in this moment. Clarke felt overcome by her emotions and the dam that was holding every one of them back suddenly ruptured. Abby held her tightly as all of Clarke’s emotions poured out of her body until there was almost nothing of her left.

“Mom, I have to tell you something,” Clarke whispered as she broke their embrace.

“What is it?” Abby responded.

“Mom…Lexa and I…we were…together.” Clarke found herself stumbling over the words.

“I know honey. I know.” Abby quickly replied. She had heard the rumors over the past few weeks as she worked amongst the grounders that Heda and Wanheda were more than simple acquaintances. Some even suggested that Wanheda had orchestrated Heda’s death as an ambitious power grab. She knew these rumors were laughable at best, caustic at worst, but she had suspected something was happening between them. Especially when Clarke wouldn’t leave with them after Kane took the brand when Skaikru became the thirteenth clan. If she only suspected before, she knew for certain now. Her daughter had loved. Her daughter was heartbroken.

“I loved her Mom. I loved her so much. I didn’t know how much until she was gone.” Clarke proclaimed as the tears streamed down her face. That was the first time she said it out loud. The first time she confided in another person her feelings for Lexa. Raven knew and her other friends had guessed as much, but she never said it. She never revealed her truth. She couldn’t. They had all lost so many people they loved, Wells, Finn, Gina, Maya, Lincoln. It wasn’t fair to wallow in her grief in front of them, to admit how shattered she was. She pushed her sorrow deep down into her gut and locked it away, until now. Saying those words out loud, letting her self feel everything she had suppressed for so long was too much for Clarke to handle and her knees buckled.

“Clarke!” Abby rushed to her side and grabbed Clarke’s arm as she tried to soften her fall.

“I’m so tired Mom.” Clarke sobbed, “So tired.”

Abby couldn’t bear to see her daughter in so much pain; she began to cry with her.

“It’s ok honey, I’ve got you.” Abby sat down next to Clarke and put her arm around her.

They both settled at the foot of Lexa’s throne and wept in each other’s company. When they couldn’t cry anymore they just sat together quietly. Finally Abby broke the silence. “I fixed up a room for you. C’mon, let me take you there so you can rest.” Clarke complied with her mother’s request. She said nothing as she got back up on her feet, she knew by the look on Abby’s face that she understood. There was nothing more to say.

Clarke fell haphazardly onto the bed. She was too exhausted to do anything else. She was thankful that her mother had remained in Polis throughout the last few weeks. Clarke knew she had left the city in good hands. Slowly, she let herself begin to relax. As she lay on the bed blankly staring at the ceiling, Clark’s thoughts turned to her friends. Jasper was a mess; his head wasn’t in a good place before, now it was even worse. Clarke worried that it would break him. She couldn’t blame him really. What had happened within the City of Light almost broke her and it still might. She hoped that he would be ok, even though she knew he blamed her for everything. Though she doubted that he would be.

Seeing Raven again while she was in Arkadia was a welcome bonus for Clarke. Clarke really did care for Raven and they had both been trying to mend their relationship after Clarke’s prolonged absence and everything that had happened with ALIE. But, it wasn’t easy. The pendant was a peace offering from Raven. Clarke didn’t have to say how deeply she felt about Lexa, Raven just knew. Clarke appreciated the gift and the gesture. It was nice to spend time with a friend. Their discussions were light and Raven didn’t ask any questions. Clarke appreciated Raven trying to hold back her curiosity about what happened with Lexa. She wasn’t ready for those conversations.

Bellamy. Clarke let out an exasperated sigh at the thought of his name. He had quietly slipped out of Polis when he heard she was on her way back. Bellamy had tried to redeem himself in her eyes, helping her with the Flame and with Luna. While she appreciated his attempts, she knew Bellamy still believed in what he had done. Clarke understood Bellamy was ashamed of his actions under Pike’s influence and that his guilt had haunted him, but he wasn’t ashamed of the outcome, he was proud. Proud the Sky People had resisted Lexa. Proud of the pressure that resistance put on her and the coalition. Proud of the wedge he thought he had driven between her and Lexa. If only he had listened, if only he had trusted her. How different would everything be right now? But that was Bellamy’s biggest problem; he could never trust that Clarke knew what she was doing, not completely. He always second-guessed her every move. He always doubted her strength. She hadn’t asked to become a leader, she didn’t want to be one, but somehow here she was. As grateful as she was for his assistance with ALIE, Clarke couldn’t stand to see him right now. She was glad he was gone.

Murphy stayed in Polis. Emori soon joined him. Abby put them both to work. Monty had been injured and remained in Polis as well, which was no surprise to Clarke; the best doctor was already here. Abby tended to Monty and to all the wounded that remained in the capitol. With Murphy and Emori’s help she was able to re-establish the medical station in the city and organized the remaining Grounder healers. They also helped to get the tower back in order after Clarke had left, consolidating the remaining staff and cleaning up the wreckage that had been wrought in the aftermath of ALIE. Indra had stayed behind as well and assumed command of the military. The Commander’s army had now been left without a leader and her soldiers had been floundering, unsure of doing even the simplest of tasks without direction. Clarke didn’t realize how much they heeded their Heda for even the most mundane duties. She was glad Indra stepped up and gave them some focus and discipline. Indra was Lexa’s highest ranking general and everyone respected her authority but she was not Heda. The soldiers would only obey Indra for so long before demanding a new commander be ascended. But Clarke had faith in Indra. Clarke also knew that Indra had loved and respected Lexa. Indra would do right by her.

Lexa. What she wouldn’t do have Lexa here right now. To talk to her about what was going on, to hear her sage advice on what to do. Lexa always knew how to effectively approach problems and was always so confident in her decisions. Clarke wished she could only have a fraction of that confidence right now. How did she do it? Be a general and a politician and a diplomat all at the same time. Clarke was always awed by Lexa’s comfort with her position in life and how she made it’s difficult demands seem effortless. She had been groomed her whole life for those obligations of course, but grooming only gets you so far. Lexa was a natural. Clarke smiled again thinking of her. She yawned and settled her head into the huge pillow that covered the entire top part of the bed and closed her eyes.

_“Lexa!” She hears a voice cry out as the thud of a body hitting the floor drowns out the sound. “Help me get her to the bed!” the voice cries out again. Darkness fills every corner of the room. All she can see is the black blood rapidly escaping through the hole in the flesh and those eyes, those goddamn eyes. Her hands rush to stop the bleeding, to hold back the flood. “There’s nothing you can do now.” She begs for her hands to work faster to dam the river of blood that’s washing over everything it touches. “I don’t want the next commander… I want you,” the voice pleads. Silence. Silence so deafening it crushes her with its weight. The blood burns her hands. The hands that failed to reign in the blood’s destruction now mock her with their weakness. “There’s nothing you can do now.” The voice echoes in her ears over and over. “There’s nothing you can do now.”_

Clarke violently gasps for breath as her eyes jolt open. Her heart beats so fast she thinks it may jump right out of her chest yet her limbs lay motionless. The paralysis that accompanies her visions now restrains her to the bed. Clarke notices that her left hand has already clasped itself firmly around the pendant and the calmness slowly begins to take over. The night’s darkness renders her nearly blind. Only the random lightening flashes from the passing storm offer her any sight. The smell of rain weighs heavy in the night air and Clarke breathes it in deeply, it’s a pleasant scent. She listens intently as the hard rain thumps against the walls of the tower. She almost enjoys the sound as its high volume drowns out her busy thoughts. For a moment Clarke is free. Free from the agony of her visions, free from the burden of her responsibilities. The only thing occupying her mind is the sweet sound of rain.

Her newfound freedom is fleeting. Clarke slowly begins to recover control of her body and when she is strong enough, props herself up on the bed. The night visions are physically draining on Clarke, much more so than the day visions. She wonders if she will ever be able to rest soundly again. She reaches over and lights the candle on the nightstand near her bedside, its flame casting a warm glow upon her skin. Clarke pulls herself up from the bed and wanders over to another small table across the room. On that table is a washbasin full of fresh water. Clarke dips her hands in and splashes the cool liquid on her face. She lingers over the basin; letting the water slowly drip back into the bowl then she stands back up and moves towards the window. She spends the next hour there, watching the storm as it whips through Polis. There was a certain beauty to the thunderstorms. Clarke finds herself almost in awe at the palate of colors before her. She notices that the dark navy and gray thunderclouds rolling across the sky paint a dreamy yet romantic vista. She wondered if she could find some drawing supplies to capture the image. It was then that Clarke realized she had not been motivated to draw anything since sketching Lexa’s sleeping portrait. Clarke sighed, that gentle moment with Lexa almost seemed like a lifetime ago. She turned away from the window. She couldn’t look at the clouds anymore. Suddenly feeling quite exhausted, she walked back to the bed and plopped down. Clarke closed her eyes again and fell back to sleep.

Morning arrived all to quickly. Clarke woke and lay quietly in the bed. She turned on her side and peered out the window. The storms had passed through the night, but the sky was still dark and overcast. “Good.” She thought to herself. The weather matched her gloomy disposition. Bright and cheery wasn’t exactly how she felt right now and she didn’t need the sun mocking her sullen mood. Clarke stared out the window for a few more minutes. She thought about what had happened the previous night in the throne room. She hadn’t had a complete breakdown like that before. She was glad it happened in front of her mother and no one else. Her mother wouldn’t look on Clarke’s vulnerability in that moment as weakness. Abby would also keep the knowledge of her breakdown to herself and that discretion was very much needed. The Grounders didn’t look well upon such weakness and there was too much at stake right now for such frailties. Clarke rolled over onto her other side and looked at her bedroom door. She knew she had to leave this room at some point. There was so much to be done to prepare for the arrival of the ambassadors. Clarke got out of bed and began her day.

**

Clarke started down the long hallway to the throne room when she caught sight of her mother leaving her own room.

“Good morning Clarke, how did you sleep?” Abby asked in a way only a concerned mother could.

“Fine.” Clarke responded knowing her mother didn’t believe the sincerity of her response. Clarke felt the sudden need to apologize for the night before. “I’m sorry Mom, for last night…I…” Clarke searched for the right words, “I needed to tell someone, to say it out loud.” Clarke’s words weighed heavy on her mother. Abby reached for Clarke’s hands and grabbed them tightly.

“It’s ok honey. I’m glad you felt you could tell me about Lexa. I can see how much she meant to you. I’m sorry Clarke. I truly am.” Abby spoke with such sincerity in her voice and Clarke deeply appreciated the sentiment. She looked at her mother and smiled. Not from happiness, but from the fact that she knew her mom understood and was able to allow Clarke to finally unburden herself even if only for a brief moment. If anyone understood what it meant to lose a the love of their life, it was her mother. Clarke felt closer to Abby than she had in a long time. Abby smiled back, it was a nice mother/daughter moment, but there were more pressing matters.

“The first ambassador will be here today, their rider arrived last night after you went to your room. I didn’t want to disturb you.” Abby said.

“Oh, ok” Clarke replied, feeling suddenly very overwhelmed.

Abby sensed her daughter’s uneasiness, “I’ve already prepared two dozen rooms. The food is being cooked as we speak. Several barrels of wine will be delivered this afternoon and I’ve got the Commander’s personal guards prepping the throne room for the meeting. You should go check and make sure they have it exactly how you want it,”

Clarke looked at her mother in astonishment. “Thank you…for everything.”

Abby nodded and continued down the hallway. Clarke took a minute to compose herself. She needed to be Wanheda and Fleimkepa today but she was still so exhausted. She didn’t want to go back into that throne room. No. She had to do this. She needed to do this. Everyone was depending on her. Lexa was depending on her. She shook off her fatigue and strengthened her posture, stiffening her spine. It seemed she was ready. She headed again down the hallway to the throne room.

**

“Hello Wanheda.” The voice startled Clarke as she walked through the entrance to the large chamber.

“Roan” she replied quizzically, “What are you doing here?”

“Looking for you Wanheda.” Roan smirked. “I heard you had called on me. I apologize for not formally welcoming you to Azgeda.”

“No apologies necessary,” Clarke replied, “A king is a busy man.”

“Yes he is.” Roan retorted.

“I am glad to see you have recovered from your injury.” Clarke offered sincerely.

“Thank you.” Roan responded. “I am also glad to have recovered. Your mother was very helpful in that regard. Charming woman.” Clarke could see that Roan was genuinely thankful for Abby’s help in his speedy recovery, and perhaps a little enamored with her mother as well. “But that’s not why I’m here. I wanted to be the one to inform you personally that Azgeda will sign on to your ceasefire. We fully hope that the alliance can be restored. We will do our part to make sure that it does, starting with this summit.”

“Thank you, I appreciate Azgeda’s support in this matter…and yours.” Clarke replied sincerely.

Roan appreciated Clarke’s candor, it was a quality of hers that he greatly admired. He paused for a moment then spoke quietly, “I wanted you to know that the situation with Ontari was unfortunate. I hope you understand that. My people…she was Ice Nation…my alternatives were limited.” Roan stopped, realizing the futility of his words.

“No apology is necessary. You were just doing what you thought was best for your people.” Clarke swallowed hard as she spoke.

“Yes.” Roan replied, “same as you Wanheda. Now that we have exchanged pleasantries, there is some pressing business I must discuss with the Fleimkepa. I would sit if I were you.”

Clarke complied with Roan’s request, sitting in one of the empty ambassador’s chairs her mother had assembled in the throne room.

“When you came to see me in Azgeda, I was called away to a small village on the edge of our lands called Rooq.”

“Yes, your advisors told me as much.” Clarke replied.

“The reason I was called there was because the healer in that village informed me that a young man turned up injured on her doorstep several nights ago looking for a healing salve. It was apparent he had been recently wounded as he was already bandaged and clearly in a great amount of pain. He obviously required more medical assistance that just a jar of salve. She brought him into her home and offered to help redress and treat his wounds. When she took his bandages off, she realized that he was a Natblida.” Clarke nearly jumped from her seat. Luna had been the last remaining night blood or so she thought. She had to find him.

“Where? Where is he?” Clarke shouted not realizing the volume of her voice.

“Hold on Wanheda. That’s the thing; by the time I had arrived there the Natblida was long gone. He apparently slipped off into the darkness the night before I arrived. Maybe he was tipped off, I don’t know. I searched for him the entire day but couldn’t find him anywhere.”

Clarke sank back into her seat. “No!” she said, “I have to find him Roan. Where is this village? I need to go there immediately. Can you mark it on a map?”

“Whoa, whoa, slow down.” Roan replied. “I have people looking, discreetly of course. I don’t want anyone else to find him first.”

This answer puzzled Clarke. “Why? Isn’t he Ice Nation? Why wasn’t he sent here to be trained?” she asked.

“I don’t know.” Roan replied to both questions. “What I do know is that if he falls into the wrong hands, someone else can use him to make a play for the Commander’s throne. And neither one of us wants that.” Clarke agreed. She had to get to him first.

**

Clarke frantically searched the tower for Abby. She needed her mother to take over her duties as ambassador so she could go find this night blood. If she waited until the summit was over, he could be gone for good or maybe even dead. She couldn’t let either happen. Clarke headed for the first spot she thought she would find Abby, the impromptu medical station on the third floor. As she took the first step down the stairwell, she heard an unfamiliar voice calling her name.

“Wanheda?” Clarke turned to the figure that spoke to her. It was a woman, with her head and body covered by a black cloak.

“Are you Wanheda?” the voice asked again. Clarke realized in that moment that she was very alone in the dim stairwell and unarmed. Indra had ordered a personal guard for Clarke, but Clarke had refused. She didn’t feel the need for a guard in the tower, until now. The woman inched closer to Clarke. “You are Wanheda, yes?” she asked again.

“Yes” Clarke replied, accepting whatever fate came with that acknowledgement.

“I must speak with you Wanheda. It is very urgent.” Clarke realized that this woman was not an assassin, but only a Grounder who wished an audience.

“I’m sorry” Clarke replied, “I have to attend to a very pressing matter, perhaps you could come to the throne room later? I can speak with you then.”

The woman was insistent “Wanheda, please I must speak to you now!”

Clarke knew she should go find Abby, but she also knew this woman clearly needed her help. She turned and walked back up the stairs. “In private” the woman insisted. Clarke escorted her to a nearby empty bedroom and closed the door behind them.

“What can I do for you?” Clarke asked. The woman removed her cloak. As she did, long dark curls spilled out onto her shoulders. The woman adjusted her clothing and stared at Clark intently with her dark brown eyes almost as if she were sizing her up. Then she spoke.

“My name is Zahra, Wanheda. I have come here to see you because I have important information that must be given only to you.” Clarke was now intrigued. She moved closer to the Zahra, noticing that for the first time that while the woman was a few years older than herself, she was quite attractive.

“What? What is it?” Clarke eagerly asked. Zahra looked around the room to make sure no one could hear what she was about to tell Clarke.

“Titus…”

“What about Titus?” Clarke huffed through clenched teeth as she became instantly agitated at the mention of his name.

“Titus said that if he was to perish, we should seek you out.” Zahra replied.

“Why?” Clarke asked angrily, getting more impatient with Zahra by the minute. Zahra, sensing that Clarke had grown annoyed walked directly up to Clarke and looked her square in the eye.

“You should come with me Wanheda.”

“And go where exactly?”

Zahra pleaded with Clarke. “Wanheda please. It’s too complicated to explain here. If I could just show you, you would understand.”

“I am not going anywhere with you until you tell me what you want.” Clarke snapped back.

Zahra sighed, “My apologies.”

“Apologies for wha-” Clarke couldn’t finish the sentence as Zahra had swiftly struck Clarke in the side of her neck rendering her unconscious.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all again for your comments. I know I’ve said it before, but even if I don’t respond to them I do read them all and appreciate you all taking the time to leave them. 
> 
> I also hope to have an update for The Trip out within the next week.


	3. What was once lost....

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke wakes to a surprise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As some of you might recall, this was originally titled Oso Thro Daun Ogeda or We Fight Together. However in the time since this was originally posted and now, another fic has also used that title. There is also a fic out there I read that has a similar premise, but I assure you, this is my original content.
> 
> I hope you enjoy this chapter.

“ _Don’t be afraid.” The voice whispered softly into Clarke’s ear._

_“Lexa?” Clarke heard her own voice calling for her love._

_“It’s okay. You’re safe.” The voice whispered into her ear again._

_“Please don’t go. Please stay with me.” Clarke cried out in anguish, feeling the heavy tears rolling down her temples. The voice didn’t answer. Only silence. Piercing silence_.

Clarke realized she was awake and struggled to open her eyes. She wasn’t paralyzed like she normally was after her visions, but her eyelids were incredibly heavy and Clarke could barely lift them open. She managed to pry one eyelid open. The only thing she could see was a shadowy haze.

“Good you’re awake.” She heard from another voice across the room as the woman it belongs to slowly moves into view. It was Zahra.

“You!” Clarke jumped up from the small bed she had been lying on and lunged towards Zahra, only to be betrayed by her now failing equilibrium. Zahra quickly grabbed her and prevented her from collapsing onto the concrete floor.

“Easy Wanheda.” Zahra spoke as she tried to ease Clarke back onto the bed.

“Get your hands off me!” Clarke hissed as she ripped her arms away from Zahra’s firm grip.

“Please Wanheda, forgive me, it was the only way I knew to get you here, to show you what you need to see.” Clarke sat on the bed and rubbed her neck with her hands, letting out an exasperated sigh. She suddenly realized she didn’t know how long she had been out or where exactly she was. She quickly scanned the room and assumed by her surroundings she was still in Polis.

“I need to go back to the tower, now.” Clarke ordered.

“I can not let you do that, not until you see what you need to see.” Zahra replied. Clarke sighed again; she knew she wasn’t leaving this place until she gave into Zahra’s demands.

“Fine.” she snapped, “Take me to see what I need to see.”

Zahra lead Clarke down a dark hallway with only a solitary candle to light the way. Clarke peered around and realized she had recognized this place, it was an old abandoned building located on the far southeastern side of Polis. Lexa had given her a tour of Polis once and brought her through this district. It was a restricted area as the buildings were unstable and many feared they would collapse. Clarke believed that in it’s former life it was currency depository. As they neared the end of the hallway, a large and heavy vault door appeared. Clarke was right; they were in some kind of bank. Zahra stopped at the substantial vault door, and with some effort, slowly pulled the door open. Clarke looked inside but she could only see a lone lantern flickering in the far corner of the room. Zahra handed Clarke the candle she was holding and nodded in the direction of the vault’s interior. Clarke was unsure, but felt she wasn’t in any danger; clearly Zahra had wanted her to just see whatever was in this room. Clarke took a deep breath and stepped through the vault’s threshold.

As Clarke stepped further into the vault, she noticed that there was something up against the far wall. Now curious as to what it was, Clarke moved closer. Slowly the light from her candle began to reveal the hidden form, it looked like another small bed similar to the one Clarke had found herself on moments earlier. Clarke inched closer, leaning over the bed. Suddenly her eyes focused on the form in front of her.

“Oh my God.” Clarke gasped. She hurriedly placed the candle on a nearby bed table as its light flickered over the beautiful form lying in front of her. Clarke’s eyes probed every inch of her face as its recognition crept in. Lexa! Could it really be her? Clarke grabbed for Lexa’s left hand and searched for the verification she needed. They were there, the cuts from her fight with Roan. They had long healed and were now pink scars on her palm and fingers, but they were there! Clarke’s heart was beating too quickly and she struggled to catch her breath. She had not even realized that tears were streaming off her face and falling into Lexa’s palm. Clarke’s hand held onto Lexa’s as she leaned over and looked at her beautiful face again. Clarke reached over with her right hand and softly stroked Lexa’s cheek; her skin was warm…so warm. Clarke gently kissed her forehead, inhaling deeply as she did. Lexa’s fragrance was all too familiar. She could not believe that she was actually here, that she was actually alive! Suddenly, the memory of her last moments with Lexa crept into her thoughts and a deep sadness overwhelmed Clarke. She broke down, sobbing into Lexa’s hand as she brought it to her lips and gently kissed it.

‘I’m sorry” Clarke whispered, “I’m so sorry.”

Clarke felt Zahra’s hand on her shoulder. She turned and stared at her.

“I don’t understand, how is this possible? I watched her die. I felt her leave.”

“Titus” Zahra answered.

“How?” Clarke asked.

“The poppy.” Zhara replied.

“The plant?” Clarke asked as she shook her head, she didn’t understand.

“Yes, the plant. The seeds have a medicinal use; it is normally ground into a paste and used as an medicine for pain.” Clarke nodded; she was familiar with the plant and its uses.

Zahra continued, “For most, this paste simply relieves pain, for natblidas it is a strong and powerful sedative even in very small doses.”

“Sedative?” Clarke let the word sink in.

“Titus administered the poppy paste to Heda after she was…injured. It depressed her heart rate and breathing to a level so low it could not be detected.” The pieces were slowly falling together for Clarke.

“How did she get here? How did she heal? Her wound was so severe.” Clarke felt her stomach drop as she remembered how serious Lexa’s wound was.

“After the poppy took hold and the Flame was removed, Titus brought her to one of our healers. They tended to her wound and when she was stable brought her here. This was supposed to be temporary, till she could be moved out of the city to a safer location. By the time she was ready, the city was overrun.”

“By us.” Clarke interrupted. Zahra nodded her head in agreement.

Clarke turned and looked back at Lexa’s face. “You were here the whole time?” she whispered.

Clarke spun back to Zahra “But that was almost two months ago. Why isn’t she awake?”

Zahra sighed. “It was too dangerous. If anyone knew she was here… she is Heda. If she were awake do you think she would be cooperative? That she would allow me to keep her here?” Clarke already knew the answer to those questions. “I chose to keep her comfortably sedated. Not with the poppy it would be too dangerous, I use another sedative.” Zahra added showing the bottle to Clarke.

“Propofol.” Clarke recognized the drug from the Ark’s medical bay. “You’re keeping her in a medically induced coma?”

“Yes. The healer thought it was the safest way.” Zahra replied.

Clarke returned her gaze to Lexa. All of this information was too much to process; all she wanted to do was look at Lexa’s face. Zahra, sensing Clarke was overwhelmed pulled over a chair for Clarke to sit on.

“I’ll give you some privacy.”

Clarke didn’t hear Zahra leave the room. All she could focus on was Lexa. Her eyes wanted to take in every inch of her and absorb every curve, every dimple, and every freckle. Emotion overcame Clarke and the words began spilling out of her mouth. “There’s so much I want to tell you. So much I wish I would have said...I should have said.” Clarke whispered. She moved closer to Lexa’s ear. “I wish you could hear me. Maybe you can...I love you Lexa...I love you more than you could ever know. I wish I told you sooner, that I didn’t waste all that time…I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry I needed so much time to say it.” Clarke couldn’t stop her tears. She fell silent; she didn’t want to confess anything else to Lexa. It wasn’t fair that she could say what she needed to say and Lexa could not. “I promise I will say all of this to you when you’re awake. I promise I’ll never stop telling you that I love you.” Clarke softly kissed her forehead again. She then settled next to Lexa, holding her hand as she kissed her slender fingers. The world outside didn’t matter anymore all that mattered was Lexa.

Zahra cleared her throat to get Clarke’s attention. Clarke wiped the tears from her face before she turned around.

“I’m sorry Zahra.”

“There is no need to be sorry Wanheda. You needed your time with her.”

Clarke gently placed Lexa’s hand back at her side and rose from the chair. “My mother is a healer, I’d like for her to come and examine Lexa. If that’s alright?”

“Of, course Wanheda.”

“You’re ok with me bringing her here?”

“I know you would not endanger Lexa. If you trust your mother than so do I.” Zahra replied. “I can send someone for her if you like, my people know how to navigate the city as to not be detected. We will get your mother here safely.” Clarke agreed.

“Maybe you could not karate chop her in the neck to get her here?”

Zahra nodded in agreement with a smile then took her leave while Clarke sat back down next to Lexa. She picked up Lexa’s left hand again, gently tracing the battle scars with her fingers. Clarke smiled; she remembered the night she re-bandaged her wounded hand. Lexa looked stunning in her black nightdress. She leaned closer to Lexa’s ear “Why didn’t I kiss you that night?” Clarke whispered. She traced the scars with her fingertips again, letting her fingers linger over the scar on Lexa’s palm, as she did, Lexa’s whole body trembled. Clarke jumped. Was she awake? “Lexa?” No answer. Clarke stood up and checked her vitals, no change. Clarke studied her face, no movement. Lexa remained motionless aside from her steady breathing. An unconscious tick? An involuntary twitch? It could’ve been either. After watching her for several minutes and seeing no more movement, Clarke resumed her place in the chair by Lexa’s side.

“Clarke? Honey, wake up.”

Abby’s voice stirred Clarke from her sleep. Clarke let go of Lexa’s hand to wipe the sleep from her eyes.

“Mom? Did I fall asleep?” Clarke recognized that it was a redundant question.

“You were sleeping so peacefully, I didn’t want to disturb you.” Abby responded. Clarke suddenly realized that she had indeed slept peacefully and was not plagued by one of the visions that usually haunted her.

“Zahra has filled me in on Lexa’s condition and treatment. Do you want to stay while I examine her?” Clarke nodded and stepped away from Lexa in order to give her mother some room. She watched intently as her mother began to examine Lexa.

“Are you alright Clarke?” her mother asked as she began taking Lexa’s pulse.

“I don’t know.” That was the most honest answer Clarke could give.

“This has to be a lot for you to deal with. I mean it’s quite a shock. I’m shocked myself. I can’t even imagine how you feel.” Abby prodded Clarke, trying to gauge her mindset. Clarke didn’t answer her mother; all she could do was keep her eyes firmly glued on Lexa.

She cringed when her mother lifted Lexa’s gown to examine her abdomen. A perfect circle of dark pink puckered skin marred her long torso. A tiny little circle the size of a pebble. How could something so small cause so much damage?

Clarke waited until Abby was completely done with her examination before she spoke again. “Is she ok?” she asked quietly.

“She seems to have healed quite well from her injury, the wound seems to have left minimal scarring, which is more than I can say for the rest of her. The poor girl is covered in all kinds of scars.” Abby shook her head while Clarke remained silent, eyes fixed on Lexa. “The medically induced coma doesn’t seem to have atrophied her muscles too severely or affected her nutrition intake negatively, which is unusual for how long she’s been sedated. Maybe it’s her nightblood? But she has been under a long time; it may take a while for her to get back on her feet. I would recommend bringing her out very slowly. When do you want to start?” Abby turned to Clarke and realized she had not even acknowledged what she was saying.

“Clarke?” Nothing.

“Clarke, please say something.”

Clarke remained silent. Abby moved closer to Clarke and pleaded with her daughter again, “Please Clarke, you’re scaring me.” Clarke’s eyes remained fixed on Lexa. Clarke’s lips trembled, she bit her bottom lip trying to hold back the tears she knew were coming.

“We aren’t going to wake her up.”


	4. The answer is that there is no good answer.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke’s reasons are revealed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!
> 
> This update was enthusiastically requested by a reader, so here it is. Another angsty chapter tho. Clarke has her reasons, don’t hate her. 
> 
> P.S. There will be an update for The Trip by Wednesday!
> 
> Enjoy!

“What do you mean we aren’t going to wake her up?” Abby asked in disbelief.

Clarke’s eyes remained on Lexa. “I have been standing here watching you with her and all I can think about is how she got here.” Clarke spoke calmly. Abby moved to Clarke and put both hands on her shoulders.

“Clarke, look at me. This is not your fault.”

Clarke finally moved her gaze away from Lexa and looked her mother in the eyes. “Yes it is.”

“No. You didn’t do this.” Abby pleaded with Clarke.

“Yes I did. Titus was trying to kill me when he shot her. He tried to kill me because I pushed her to do things she wasn’t ready to do, that her people weren’t ready to accept.”  
Abby could see the absolute agony in her daughter’s eyes. “Clarke, all you have done since Lexa died was to work for peace, to accomplish what she was already trying to do. She got the Grounders to stop warring amongst themselves; she formed a coalition and brought them together and you have kept them together, even after everything that has happened. You said it yourself this was what she wanted. That this would be her legacy.”

Clarke turned her eyes back on Lexa. “She knew that it would take time, a long time to change decades of tradition, that her people would need to move slowly. She knew that. But after Bellamy and Pike slaughtered her army at Arkadia, she wanted to kill all of you, but I asked her to show you mercy and she did. Then after Pike went and raided her ancestral lands and murdered an entire village of Trikru, she didn’t even tell me. She did nothing. I asked her to give Skaikru a chance to make it right and she set the blockade and allowed us to try again.” The guilt dripped from the words as they poured out of her.

Abby tried to reason with her. “Clarke, she did that because we were her people, she vowed to protect us.”

Clarke shook her head furiously. “No. She didn’t do it out of some obligation. She did it because I asked her to…she did it for me.” Clarke’s voice cracked as she remembered the last time she uttered those words, right before she plunged a knife into Finn’s heart. She closed her eyes tightly and took a deep breath.

“Titus was right, I killed her. I didn’t pull the trigger, but I killed her.”

Abby clutched her daughter’s shoulders again. “Clarke, no. She’s alive, she’s right here.”

Clarke was unfazed. “I did this to her. I made her compromise herself and this is what happened.” Clarke stared back at her mother.

“I won’t do it again.”

Zahra stepped into the room from the threshold; having heard everything that was said.

“Wanheda, are you sure this is what you want?” Zahra asked with disbelief.

“It doesn’t matter what I want. This is how it has to be.” Clarke answered solemnly.

“Clarke, think about what you’re saying.” Abby pleaded with her daughter.

“I have Mom. This is what needs to happen. I won’t put her in danger again. I won’t.”

Zahra pleaded with Clarke “Wanheda, she can only be sedated for so long. She has already been under for more than the prescribed timeframe; this is why I sought you out. Even if I wanted to keep her this way, the supplies are limited. There was a reserved stock of medicine for her because she is Heda.”

“Was Heda.” Clarke interrupted. “She _was_ Heda.”

“But you are the Fleimkepa. You have the Flame. Will you not perform the ceremony and ascend Lexa?” Zahra asked.

Clarke’s hand subconsciously moved to the pendant around her neck. The comfort that she had always found in this act was suddenly absent.

“No” she answered Zahra calmly. “I won’t put the Flame back in her.”

“If you will not, then who is to be Commander? There are no more natblidas.” Zahra asked.

“That is my concern as Fleimkepa, not yours.” Clarke answered sharply. She wasn’t ready to share the information Roan had relayed to her, not with Zahra.

“Clarke. What happens when they run out of medication and have to wake her up? What then?” Abby asked questioningly.

“She won’t be anywhere near here.” Clarke responded. “We are going to give her everything she needs to travel safely and Zahra is going to take her far away from here, as far away as she can get.”

“Clarke?” Abby looked at her pleadingly.

“Mom. I need you to prepare whatever medical supplies you can spare for Zahra. I’m going to arrange for fresh horses and a cart so you can transport Lexa securely. Take her to Floukru, to Luna; she will keep you both safe until I can find somewhere else. I will send Octavia with you; I can’t risk sending anyone else. That would raise too much suspicion. You’ll leave tonight, under the cover of darkness.”

“You don’t know what your saying Clarke.”

Clarke looked to her mother again and sighed deeply. “I am the Fleimkepa and I am Wanheda. This is not a suggestion, this is an order.” With that statement Clarke turned to Zahra. “Be prepared to move her by sundown.”

With her commands dispensed, Clarke turned and left the vault without looking back. She knew that if she did, if she saw Lexa’s face again, her resolve to do the right thing by her would dissolve. She knew if she looked back her entire being would shatter into a million pieces. So Clarke held her gaze straight ahead and kept walking.

*

Clarke settled herself in an antechamber off the throne room that she had claimed as a temporary and unofficial office. She had collected all of the Fleimkepa documents and historical texts that Titus had carefully collected and moved them to this office for safekeeping. She then had Titus's chamber sealed. Whoever would take over the role of Fleimkepa after her would be free to reopen the chamber and assume it as their own, but she never wanted to step foot into that room ever again.

Clarke sighed as she sat down and looked at the scattered papers littered across the large wooden table that served as her desk. Most were strategic maps that lay out agreed upon borders, land claims and trade routes. Some were well-written and detailed documents. Clarke, early on in her tenure, had decided to employ one of the few Trikru that could read and write as an unofficial record keeper. His name was Ami and his father was Lexa's candle maker. Lexa apparently took a liking to the boy and let him have access to her personal library. He was a lanky 13 year old with coal black hair and dark brown eyes and was incredibly intelligent and well spoken. Clarke often wondered if Lexa had tutored him personally. She asked a lot of the boy and every week she was gifted with incredibly detailed reports about what was happening within Polis and within each of the territories of the thirteen clans.

She studied the report from the last week in an attempt to keep her concentration focused. It was a futile task. All she could think about was Lexa. Lexa was alive. She was safe and here and alive. How she escaped ALIE’s grasp was a miracle in itself. Zahra and her network of subversives had somehow managed to keep her safe in Polis, in the shadows of all the anarchy and madness that had consumed the city. She was jarred from her thoughts by a hard knock on her door. "Come in." She was expecting her mother to burst right through the door and engage her a serious discussion about what had occurred the vault, instead she was surprised to see a very subdued Octavia crossing through the threshold.

"Hey Octavia." Clarke had informed Octavia almost an hour earlier about Lexa’s return and her plan for transporting Lexa out of the city. Octavia appeared to be less than pleased when Clarke asked her to accompany Zahra and Lexa to Floukru territory and Clarke had thought that maybe she had asked too much of Octavia considering the circumstances, but Octavia accepted her assignment without question.

Octavia grabbed the only other chair in the room that Clarke wasn't occupying and pulled it next to Clarke's before plopping down. Clarke cautiously leaned back in her chair expecting Octavia to request someone else take her place with Lexa. She braced herself for the worst and intentionally put some space between herself and Octavia. Octavia noticed Clarke's reaction to her presence and closed her eyes as she hung her head.

"I'm sorry Clarke."

"Sorry for what O?"

Octavia raised her head and met Clarke's gaze before reaching across the desk for her hand and grabbing it gently. "That day. The day I made you choose between Lexa and us. The day she.... died. I'm sorry I pressured you. I knew there was something going on with you and her, especially when you considered staying, but I didn't know how serious it was. I didn't know how you felt about her."

Clarke closed her eyes at Octavia's confession. "It's ok O. No one knew."

"No Clarke. It's not ok. If I had known, I wouldn't have made you feel guilty about wanting to stay. I had my own agenda.”

"Lincoln." It wasn't as much of a question as it was a statement. Octavia nodded.

Octavia had just begun to comprehend how well Clarke understood her actions that day. "I needed you Clarke. I needed you. You were the only one who could have made them all see they were being so stupid by following Pike. You were the only one that could've tried to talk some sense into Bell. I needed you to help save him. Help save Lincoln. I thought if anyone could..."

“I know.” Clarke dropped her head into her hands.

They both fell silent. Clarke’s guilt and Octavia’s grief seemed to spill out of their respective bodies and had flung itself to every inch of the small room, hanging dense in the air between them. Their two heavy hearts that somehow still managed to beat were noisily thudding along; disrupting the uneasy quiet that enveloped the room.

“Why are you sending her away?” Octavia asked earnestly.

“O. You know why. She’s not safe…not here. Not with me.”

“Clarke, do you even hear yourself? The love of your life is alive and in this city and your sending her away? For what? Her safety Clarke? Do you honestly think that when she comes to that she will be content living in exile? That she’s not going to come marching right back here to reclaim her throne? Or to reclaim you? Did you even think about what she would want Clarke? Did you even once consider Lexa’s feelings?”

“I am trying to do the right thing O. I am trying to protect her.”

“How? By breaking her heart? ”

Clarke’s resolve breaks, her chest heaving, attempting to hold back a violent sob “Do you think that’s what I want?”

“Then why are you doing this Clarke?”

“O, I love her, more than anything, more than I thought it was even possible to love someone. I can’t lose her again. I know she would fight me, I know she wouldn’t go willingly. I have to be the one to do this. I need to be strong enough to make this decision for her, for both of us. I need to let her go to keep her safe.”

The sob that Clarke was trying to hold back finally rips through her as she slumps further into her chair. She squeezes her arms protectively around herself, as if that could keep the intense pain of her heart breaking at bay. She understood that it was far too late to prevent that from happening. Octavia knelt next to her and pulled her in for a tight embrace. She held Clarke as she wept and Clarke was thankful for once that she wasn’t alone. She had cried too many lonely tears.

Clarke’s sobs ultimately came to an end. She was left sniffling in Octavia’s arms trying to regain what was left of her composure. She recognized that Octavia was spot-on in assuming Lexa wouldn’t stand idly by while Clarke determined her fate, romantic or otherwise. Clarke had anticipated as much of course, for she knew Lexa better than any other. She also knew she needed Octavia to be on board with her plan. After all, Octavia would be one of the people to be in the immediate fall out area once Lexa was finally conscious. Octavia would ultimately be the person to have to deal with the aftermath.

Clarke broke the silence. “There’s another natblida, somewhere in Azgeda. I’m leaving to help find him in the morning and when I do, I’m going to give him the Flame. He will be the new Heda.”

“Clarke, what are you talking about? The natblidas are gone, Ontari killed them all.”

“No. Roan came here and told me there is another. He’s injured and on the run, Roan has people searching for him as we speak. We will find him and bring him to Polis. If I can get him to ascend before she wakes up-”

“Lexa won’t have any reason to come back here.” Octavia shook her head in disbelief.

“She can be free O. Free to have a life that she wants, not the one that was forced on her.”

“A life without her people. A life without you Clarke. Do you think she would want that?”

Clarke shook her head. “No.” She looked down at the papers strewn across the desk in front of her as if they would believe the words that she forced out of her mouth. “But she will be away from here, away from me, and she will be safe. The new Heda will inherit her enemies and responsibilities. In time she will understand that this is for the best.”

Octavia stood and stepped in front of Clarke and lifted Clarke’s chin with her fingertips to get her full attention. “Clarke, all I know is that by some miracle you have been given a second chance. A second chance at love. A second chance at happiness. Look around Clarke no one gets that. No one.” Octavia’s eyes filled with tears on the brink of being shed but somehow held them back. “Do you know what I would give, what I would do to be in your position? To have him back? To have a second chance?”

Clarke averted her eyes down to the desk and fought back her own tears. She didn’t have the courage to look Octavia in the face. She was ashamed of herself. She knew damn well that it was nothing short of a miracle to have Lexa back. But she also knew it wasn’t fair that Lexa was here and Lincoln was gone. Octavia had every right to be angry with her and the decisions she was making. Clarke knew she had to bear the brunt of that anger; no she needed to bear the brunt of that anger. She deserved it. No matter what happened with her and Lexa, Lincoln was never coming back. She deserved to feel Octavia’s pain and take it on as her own. She wanted that hurt, that crushing gut wrenching coil of unbound grief. She needed to add all of that to the bottomless well of guilt that currently occupies the place where her soul used to live. It was for Clarke, the justification to do the things she needed to do.

Octavia sighed at Clarke’s silence. If there was any constant with Clarke, it would be her damn stubborn streak. “If it was Lincoln who came back from the dead, I would run to him and take him in my arms and never ever let him go.” Octavia sought out Clarke’s gaze again. “Be sure this is what you really want Clarke, because you won’t get a third chance.”

And with that statement Octavia exited the small room, slamming the heavy door behind her leaving Clarke trapped deep within her own thoughts.


End file.
